“Lady in the Lake” Review : Apple Noir by Natalie Portman Goes Deeper Than a Conventional Whodunit,
Helped by a superb cast and enthralling atmosphere, Alma Har’el’s murder mystery, set in Baltimore, lavishly dissects its detective narrative into an examination of discrimination and identity.
From above, Alma Har’el’s ambitious new Apple series would appear as corny as its title, “Lady in the Lake.” A small girl is discovered dead in 1966 not far from Baltimore. Aspiring journalist who finds her death gets fixated on the case, which quickly reveals more bodies, more suspects, and a criminal network with dubious connections to law enforcement, politicians, and other influential figures.
While all of this is accurate, it is not the whole story. Layer after layer is revealed in this intense, otherworldly seven-episode limited series. Occasionally, they provide fresh insights into the situation. Frequently, they provide us with information about the two ladies at its core. Indeed, a pair of females. Apart from Maddie Schwartz, played by Natalie Portman, who is a white reporter with a strong personal bond with the victim and feels compelled to speak up on her behalf due to her small but personal connections, “Lady in the Lake” is directed by Cleo Johnson (Moses Ingram), a mother who works two jobs to support her sons, one of which takes her into danger and the other leads her to Maddie.
Unless there’s a risk to Maddie. In this meandering, atmospheric noir, the question “why not both?” is frequently answered in response to an either/or scenario. “Lady in the Lake” subverts our preconceived notions about heroes and victims multiple times in the first hour. To start, it confuses us as to who the title actually refers to: Of course, there’s the young girl, but we won’t find her until the very end of the first hour. With Ingram’s soothing narration, the scene opens with a man in a rowboat disposing of a woman’s body in a lake’s fountain. “I was Cleo Johnson when I was alive,” she claims. “But I became the lady in the lake after I died.” Then, speaking directly to Maddie, she continues, “You came at the end of my story… and turned it into your beginning,” with a faint undertone of recrimination.
After that, the narrative moves back in time by one month, yet “Lady in the Lake” uses every option with a compelling purpose, in contrast to other forced media res openings (and, for that matter, other repetitive, exposition-heavy voiceover segments). From time to time, the mystery may take a backseat, relieving too much tension and shifting the dramatic weight onto the film’s dedicated characters. Har’el’s symbolic gestures can also become a bit over the top. (Removing the hallucinations and dream scenes would have made the seven-episode series more coherent; it might even have been reduced down to six hours.)
However, “Lady in the Lake” is captivating from beginning to end if you can follow the convoluted plot and put aside the usual priorities of a whodunit (i.e., questioning, “Who, you know, did it?”). Portman’s unrelenting and daring performance is the ideal complement to Ingram’s firm hold on Cora. A strong cast of supporting actors contributes their own appropriate touches, while the film’s creepy soundtrack by Marcus Norris, sharp costumes by Shiona Turini, and flawless production design by JC Molina create a mesmerizing atmosphere that is ideal for this vibrant noir.
Ultimately, Har’el’s rendition of Laura Lippman’s 2019 novel of the same name, although it features a murder-murder plot (yes, Portman goes full “wooter” with her Pennsylvanian accent, and it is lovely), is more focused on Maddie and Cleo discovering who they are than on identifying the murderer. “Lady in the Lake” is a brave examination of identity shaped by the complex web of prejudice in America. Everywhere they look, women encounter prejudice and misogyny. They are unable to function in the world unless a man grants them permission to do so, and it soon becomes apparent that they have had enough.
Maddie is on the verge of a midlife crisis when we first meet her. However, Maddie’s breaking point stems from not being able to achieve, well, whatever she wants to do, unlike guys who often lose it over little things like not getting a good enough job or collecting enough accolades. In the 1960s, she is a housewife in a Jewish household. Milton, her conceited husband (Brett Gelman), doesn’t consult her when making decisions. Seth (Noah Jupe), her asshole son, enjoys making fun of his mother in public and berating her behind her back. She has spent her entire life organizing parties, cleaning, and cooking, and guess what? She is over it!
Maddie lashes out at Milton, saying, “God forbid you go one day without me serving you,” while packing her bag. Cleo’s existence is disturbingly identical to Maddie’s, who lives in the far-off suburb of Pikesville, back in the city. Her spouse, stand-up comedian Slappy (Byron Bowers), is unreliable as a gigger and unfit to parent the children. Instead of stopping their son from working with neighborhood hustlers, he would choose to “research” for his “work” by inviting the guys home for drinks. And because he isn’t providing for the family financially either, guess what? She is over it! Cleo quickly packs her bag, gathers their children, and heads to her mother’s house in the hopes that Slappy will eventually come to his senses.
While recognizing the contrasts, Har’el closely examines the similarities between Maddie and Cleo. Maddie has the resources and status to support herself while she embarks on a new life. She attempts to sell her car without her husband’s signature, sells some jewelry, and gets an apartment from a friend on the condition that she pay him back later. But Cleo continues to provide for her two sons and herself. She must continue working. She is unable to miss her daily job running numbers at a nightclub featuring the local lottery or her day job modeling clothes in display windows at the department store. Furthermore, Maddie is free to become angry (and boy, does Portman get angry). Cleo needs to control much of her rage.
When Har’el cuts between each lead, it’s more likely to show a warped reflection than a mirror image. “Lady in the Lake” is harsh with Maddie, pointing out her shortcomings and making her more aware of her own goals, but she also shows compassion. Our inconsistent narrator, Cleo, is more straightforward, even though her destiny is still up in the air. This is also appropriate for a show that aims to explore the subtle and overt aspects of American racism without subjugating its characters.
We get to meet a ton of talented actors who masterfully perform their scenes as they travel. This year’s Cannes breakout star Mikey Madison (formerly of “Better Things”) plays Maddie’s pal who smokes cannabis and says inappropriate things like, “There’s nothing wrong with rolling naked in the grass with a bunch of boys.” Wood Harris, a guest performer from “The Wire,” plays Cleo’s menacing boss. The father of the dead girl, David Corenswet (a previous Ryan Murphy favorite and potential Superman), appears; he has a past with Maddie. While Y’lan Noel from “Insecure” sports a clever enough Baltimore P.D. uniform to hint at his discomfort, Josiah Cross plays a credible part-time bruiser with a tender heart and part-time boxer.
It might have also been beneficial to see “Lady in the Lake” from above. Time leaps and complex storylines can be exhausting, and like with many vibe-heavy activities, it’s easy to lose focus completely if you’re not paying attention to its rhythms. However, the series’ complete defiance of expectations and unwavering devotion to its heroes make it as admirable. There’s enough information here to justify the search.
Rating: B
Two episodes of “Lady in the Lake” will debut on Apple TV+ on Friday, July 19. The limited series will air new episodes every week until August 23.